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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23773711">home</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlight92/pseuds/starlight92'>starlight92</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Manic Street Preachers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 19:49:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>303</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23773711</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlight92/pseuds/starlight92</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>how could you become another boy struck dumb with love</i>
</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James Dean Bradfield/Nicky Wire</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>home</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>idk where this is going, I'm at this point mid lockdown where I keep writing short snippets of a fic, so here's one!</p><p>--</p><p>disclaimer: this is not real and never happened xxxx</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There is always a point on tour where the days start feeling longer, they’re not even half way through and James is beginning to suspect that this one has started early. Tiredness already grasps around every muscle and drags them into the evening. James glaces down at the lanky form of Nicky, stretched out across the sofa with his sunglasses on, <em>oh sure we’re slightly fucking exhausted</em> it’s true.</p><p>Which is all well and obvious, but said lanky bassist is using James’ thigh as a pillow, as if that’s his god given right and James just has to deal with it. So is he going to simply sit there with his whiskey and coke?<em> Is he fuck</em>. James starts casually bouncing his leg just to be irritating and it has the desired effect - Nicky leans up on his elbows with a grunt, too sleepy to muster any kind of sentence, pushing his sunglasses up into artfully disheavled hair. His eyes flick around the dressing room, to Sean engrossed in his phone, then back up to James. A slow smile, which makes James nervous until seconds later when he slumps back down, right into James' lap. </p><p>"…was sleepin’ yeah?" Nicky yawns.</p><p>James is about to snap something sarcastic back, but deciding how pointless that would be; he goes for a sigh and an eye roll. Nicky evidently takes this as a win, he’s apparently shifting around to get more confortable. Sideways, the taller man is half wrapped around him and James would never admit to finding that adorable - but he can’t help it.</p><p>Somewhere in the vicinity of half an hour later, Sean looks up from his phone. James is quietly snoring, his head tipped back on the sofa, hand resting in Nicky’s hair. Sean chuckles to himself and goes back to scrolling Twitter.</p>
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